“I haven’t asked for an apology on my account.”
“We demand it on our own account. He has been told that he must apologize publicly, as the insult was offered publicly.”
“Well, he’ll find me ready to pardon him freely and just as willing to forget the occurrence.”
“You are generous, Mr. Merriwell.”
During the next thirty minutes Merry was kept busy shaking hands with those who were eager to express their good will.
That night in Omaha he made a host of admirers and friends who would never forget him, and who would ever stand ready to uphold him on any occasion.
Many of those present seemed lingering for something. A few departed, but the majority waited on.
Finally Fred Darleton, accompanied by Grant Hardy and followed by a number of boon companions, entered the room.
Darleton was pale and nervous. He glanced about the place, and an expression of resentment passed over his face as he noted the number who had lingered. For a moment he seemed to hesitate; then he advanced toward Frank, who sat near the centre of the room, with his comrades and the club members about him.
Merry rose as he saw his late opponent.